


InterAgency Cooperation

by florahart



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol AU?, Mistaken Identity, shut up I like sap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-23
Updated: 2015-04-23
Packaged: 2018-03-25 09:33:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3805489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/florahart/pseuds/florahart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint and Phil are in India gathering information about a growing crisis.  They're undermanned, but they're making it work.  And then they meet someone a little unexpected.  :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	InterAgency Cooperation

**Author's Note:**

> As has happened before, a Harlequin inspired this, sorta. It's not my fault they put all these tropes in my head next to porn. Not that there's any porn here, but still.

Phil watched Clint come down the stairs and enter the party behind one of the many young men with broad silver trays filled with tiny hors d'oeuvres , adjusting a cufflink like he wore them all the time, and tried to school his face into something that wasn't the lust that was always under the surface but was currently breaking through like some kind of exuberant dolphin at play.

He didn't think he was succeeding, but then, probably fortunately for him if distressingly for Clint, Clint never seemed to notice Phil's constant slight, and totally inappropriate, infatuation. Phil tended to hope that it was more that Clint was kindly ignoring the issue, but given everything he knew about the man's general ideas about the kinds of friendships he was worthy of (it was a short and unhappy list), he suspected it was a genuine inability to see it.

But that was just as well. Phil sipped from his drink and watched the approach, working hard not to get too entirely sucked into the play of the fabric moving over Clint's shoulders and arms as he made his way among some of the wealthiest men in this part of India, soft and mobile and all right, it did cover up some of Phil's favorite physical aspects of Clint, but, and this was genuinely surprising, he clearly knew how to work a suit. Actually, he also clearly knew how to _choose_ a suit; Phil hadn't expected anything quite like this despite the setting.

“Hey,” Clint said, leaning forward onto the high off-white Phil had at his back. He folded his hands together, resting both forearms, and winked. “Buy you a drink?”

Phil blinked. “Barton, besides how you have someone else to seduce, I _have_ a drink.” He held it up. “Also, I think our host would be insulted if we tried to pay with money.”

Clint paused for just an instant, during which Phil felt an unhappy twinge of regret at shooting him down, because what the hell, since when did Clint flirt with him? And then shrugged. “So can I _get_ you a drink? When you're done with that one.”

“I usually try to avoid face-planting anywhere I don't mean to,” Phil said. He lowered his voice. “Report.”

There was another tiny pause, like Clint was trying to parse something unexpected, and then he turned so only one elbow was on the bar, facing Phil and looking past him. “So, on my way in here I noticed the south wall is two feet too thick, at least. Could be nothing, a secret passage for the servants to magically bring in the next course without crowding the hallways or something, but I'd have thought they'd use the east and north walls for that because it's a shorter trip from the kitchen.”

Phil stared. They'd talked about the south wall imagery on the way here. Had Clint just not been paying attention? Or was he trying to convey something else was wrong? He hmmed a little and raised his drink to his lips, running his eyes over Clint's jacket again, appreciating the view one more time as he let himself lean in a little looking for any other physical signs.

And then his ear bud hummed. “Uh, sir? I know I'm a couple minutes late, but cufflinks suck. Also, is there some reason you're hanging out with some dude that looks kind of like me and looking at him like you want to eat him for lunch?” Clint's voice came though, and Phil took a larger sip than he'd meant to, just barely managing not to choke. 

“Well, see what else you can come up with,” he said once he swallowed. “I think I'll make a circuit around the room.”

The guy nodded and ached a brow. “Your Barton just showed up, huh?” He leaned closer. “Brandt, IMF. Most likely, given you mistook me and I'm here to suit the guy's type, my target is his, so I mean, if you wanna let him seduce you instead... I think I gotcha covered.”

Phil pressed his finger and thumb to the bridge of his nose just as Clint, in his ear, made a sound that was either a choked-off groan or an indication he was suddenly engaged in a very quiet, probably-deadly fight. “Christ. I heard he'd been busted out. You're with Hunt, then?” He set his glass on the bar for one of the silver-trayed men to take, and shook his head a little (Jesus, now that he was looking, he saw the absence of the tiny scar in the shell of the ear, the way his eyes crinkled just slightly differently... some spy he was), and took a step back.

“And you're one of Fury's. Rock paper scissors?”

Phil shook his head again, more firmly this time. “We're understaffed for the op. You?”

“We have an angry badass who lost her partner and a slightly-insane geek that flies people around with magnets. And Hunt. We could use more eyes, but it's hard to incorporate elements midway, so...”

Phil nodded. “All yours then.” He moved away toward the marble stairs and back around the balustrade. “Barton--”

“Your two, sir. Couldn't come down without being obviously that dude's twin, and we're shooting for not that memorable, right?”

“Right.” Phil looked to two o'clock and then up to the balcony, to where Clint was leaning, hands folded and elbows on the rail. It was the same position Brandt had chosen, although now that he knew the difference, it was easy to see how Clint didn't feel quite as at home.

Also, he was wearing a purple tie, because of course he was, and the fit of the jacket... apparently Brandt had _nice_ shoulders, but not _Barton-nice_ shoulders. Well, it was good to know the difference, Phil thought was a suppressed sigh.

“You coming up?” Clint darted a look down, then went back to scanning the room.

“Yes. Nice suit.”

“Pain in the ass suit.” Clint rolled his shoulders a little. “Waste of time, if I'm not seducing the rich guy.”

Phil shook his head and dropped back to the door so he could come up the exterior stairs along the east edge of the complex. “Not a waste. Meet me at the northeast corner? Your level.”

“Pssh. You think that about all suits. On my way.”

“Not true. There exist suits sold by J.C. Penney, and they are a travesty.”

Clint chuckled. “So, Brandt, huh?”

Phil stepped onto the upper level and headed for the corner. “Apparently. He could be your twin, you know.”

“He thinks I should seduce you, in case you didn't hear.”

“I did hear, but I'm making a different call.”

Clint came through the curtain from the balcony and shrugged. “Thought you might.” Someone who didn't know Clint well might have only seen the shrug, but Phil saw it for the slightly dejected slump it was.

He hustled him through the other curtain and into the room they'd surmised, from the images, must be here. It was a tiny mostly-dark space, but it met Phil's needs for the moment. “Yeah. Unless you have an objection, I thought _I'd_ seduce _you_.” He pressed Clint against the wall and stepped up into his space, then waited for a response.

Clint plucked a tiny piece of lint off his sleeve, eyes down, and bit his lip. “I don't know,” he said slowly. “I'm not sure it's really the kind of thing you... I'm going to be really, really, sort of embarrassingly, easy to seduce,” he said quickly. “Not much of a challenge.”

Phil smiled and stepped in closer, bringing up his hands to cradle Clint's jaw. “Makes two of us,” he said. “But I really like the suit, and the guy in it. I think it'll be fun anyway.”

Clint looked at him for a long moment in the dim light from the hall, then reached to pull the curtain across. “I can work with that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Also, the new Mission Impossible trailer might have influenced me a tiny bit. Plus, in MI: Ghost Protocol, I seem to remember Brandt saying that next time he gets to seduce the rich guy, so, you know, there's that.


End file.
